It was Easter Sunday in the town of Gradiska.  The strict religious ceremonies with which the Passion week was commemorated at the court of the youthful but pious Archduke Ferdinand were at an end; the black hangings disappeared from the church walls, and the bells rang out a merry peal in joyful commemoration of the Saviour’s resurrection.  The nobles and ladies of the court, wearied with the vigils and fasting which the religious zeal of the time rendered imperative, betook themselves with lightened hearts to their apartments, the elder portion to repose, the younger ones to prepare for the brilliant festival and ball which the following day was to witness.

In a richly furnished apartment of the castle, the young and handsome wife of one of the archducal counsellors was pacing up and down, her full and voluptuous form reflected on every side by the tall Venetian mirrors that covered the walls of the apartment.  The lady was apparently in no gentle mood; her step was hurried and impatient, her face flushed, her lips peevishly compressed, and her irritation seemed to increase each time that she passed before a table on which were displayed a number of jewel-boxes and caskets, all open, and nearly all empty.  Since the Easter festival of the preceding year, the caprices and necessities of this spendthrift beauty had abstracted one by one the rich kernels from these now worthless husks, and the recollection of the follies, or worse, in which their value had been squandered, now came to aggravate the vexation which the want of the jewels occasioned her.  So absorbed was she in the consideration of her annoyances and perplexities, that for some time she took no notice of the presence of a young and graceful female in plain attire, who stood apparently in deep thought in the embrasure of one of the windows.  The maiden had her back turned to the room; but the admirable contours of her fine figure, and the rich luxuriance of the jet-black locks that flowed over her shoulders, gave promise of a perfection that was not belied, when, on an exclamation of impatience from her mistress, she suddenly turned round, and revealed the beauteous features of Dansowich’s daughter.  She it was who formed the usual medium of communication between the pirates and their archducal allies; and during her frequent sojourns at Gradiska, she assumed the character of attendant on the counsellor’s lady.

“Holy Virgin!” exclaimed the court dame, stamping her foot violently on the polished floor.  “What can detain the knaves?  Say, girl! where can they be lingering?”

Strasolda made no reply to this impetuous enquiry.  She was no longer the excited and impetuous Uzcoque heroine, invoking the spirit of the storm amidst the precipices and caverns of her native shores.  A total change had come over her.  Her look was subdued, her cheek pale, her eyes red and swollen with weeping.  She cast an humble and sorrowful glance at the lady, and a tear trembled on her long dark lashes.